


The End of Heroes and Villains

by QueenOfTheMerryMen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Happy Ending OQ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfTheMerryMen/pseuds/QueenOfTheMerryMen
Summary: Stopping Robin's wedding was just the beginning of their story. So much happened after that but now we skip ahead to the end, to the first step in Robin and Regina's happy beginning.A continuation of the Heroes and Villains verse I started on FF.net.





	The End of Heroes and Villains

It hits her like a splash of water to the face, sucking the air out of her lungs, freezing her steps in their tracks.

 

One moment she’s walking down the street, trying to avoid the looks and stares and whispers. All the townsfolk who don’t even try to hide their shock and curiosity as she ambles past, out of her nun’s habit for the first time in years. They all knew what happened, had heard the rumors of what she’d done with Robert, the vows that she’d broken just to know what it felt like to be with him. Under the subtle intensity of their gaze all she could feel was shame, burning her from the inside out.

 

Then it stopped.

 

The back of her heel placed on the pavement below her, she was frozen in place as her mind seemingly exploded inside her skull, memories buried in deep, forgotten places rushing back all at once in a wave, crashing over her, drowning her in their weight.

 

She remembered the smell of the forest, the old one, not the one of pine and rivers that she lived near now. The one she’d grown up in, with oak trees tall as giants and meadows that smelled of honey and freedom. She remembered her father, god, her father. His kind eyes and gentle, weathered hands, lullabies sung to her in the light of the moon, drifting her to sleep. She remembered him… and Snow.

 

The sound of her own voice as she screamed hysterically, so terrified for her father’s safety as he leapt into the choppy waters of the river, to save that little girl they’d seen floating down stream. She remembered the first time she saw that unnaturally pale skin and glassy, green eyes overflowing with fear. She remembered the hug she gave her, the whispers of gratitude she received in return.

 

She remembered the castle walls, the way the sunlight danced through colored window panes, and the echoing sound of her shoes as she walked across stone floors, feeling the growing hatred directed at her back by the girl who once looked at her with such gratitude. Guilt rose up in her chest as the memories of James’ hanging and Snow’s cries returned to her for the second time, clutching her heart and sending stones into her stomach.

 

_This is your fault._

 

She remembered the feeling of damp leaves against her skin and wood against her back as she slept, never quite drifting away, never fully letting her guard down as she hid away from the last person left who she actually considered family.

 

She remembered blue eyes and golden hair, the sound of coins clinking against each other in a wool sack. The fleeting sound of an arrow that sails not even an inch past her face, thudding into a tree.

 

_A simple thank you will suffice._

 

She remembered that voice, that warm voice, the first kind voice she’d heard in years. The taste of lukewarm ale in her mouth as she sits in the tavern staring into those blue eyes, feeling things that she’d long since given up on, and no longer dared to hope for.

 

She remembered… Robert… no… not Robert… Robin. Her Robin. Her smug, noble Robin Hood.

 

She remembers pain ripping through her, screams falling from her own lips as a storm, no, a curse raged outside their window, his hand in hers, encouraging her, promising they’d be together, all three of them.

 

Then she remembers that face, those eyes, those dimples. His cries as she held him for the first time. Only minutes old, resting perfectly in the crook of her arm. Wrapped perfectly in a gifted blanket bearing his name. Roland. Her Roland, her baby… her savior.

 

With one small step she falls back into reality, gasping for air as if she’s just now remembered how to breathe. Her arms wrap around her stomach, holding herself together, as if she’s trying to physically piece back together the memories of who she once was, who she really is. Glancing around her, seeing the shock on the other citizen’s faces she knows she’s not alone.

 

The curse… it’s broken.

 

She just keeps walking. She doesn’t know what else to do. All she can think of is putting one foot in front of the other, not seeing where she’s going, not caring either, just focusing on what in her head is real and what isn’t, trying desperately to differentiate the two.

 

Ten seconds ago she was a disgraced former nun, and now she’s a bandit, a married one, a mother. It’s… suffocating, having it all come back, blended and intertwined. She can’t sort through it. Not alone, at least.

 

“Regina…”

 

For the second time that hour, she’s stopped in her tracks. That voice, that warm, kind voice, the one that never ceases to make her melt, to make her believe, to make her yearn, and hope and love… she hears it. For the first time in decades she actually hears him.

 

She looks up and sees him standing on the opposite street corner. He still has on his plaid, flannel shirt, his weathered, old hiking boots and beaten coat. On the outside he’s still very much Robert Lachlan. But that look on his face, the hope in his smile, the light in his eyes… that’s her husband.

 

“Robin…”

 

His name comes from her lips like a prayer to God, and he’s running toward her, the sound of his boots against the road echoing in her head. Then his hands are on her cheeks, pulling his lips to hers and her heart explodes from all the warmth and love, the emotions and happiness that have been kept from her for the last 28 years. It all comes roaring back.

 

When they finally pull apart, Robin presses his forehead against hers, his breath shaky, his heart still pounding beneath her palm.

 

“Our son…” he whispers. “He found us.”

 

“So it’s true?”

 

A third voice intrudes on their moment, a voice she had come to recognize quite well in the past few weeks.

 

She turns still in Robin’s arms to see her son, her baby, standing before her. Roland.

 

He’s a grown man, she knew that, had known the minute she let him leave her arms that he’d be grown the next time that she saw him but… he’s still her baby. She still looks into his dark brown eyes and can see the newborn she’d wrapped in a blanket to keep warm. Even with his broad shoulders, square jaw and head of dark, curly hair that he’d surely gotten from her and her father, her baby is all that she can see.

 

She steps toward him, tears welling up in her eyes. “Roland…”

 

Reaching out to rest her hand against his dimpled cheek, she can tell he’s trying so hard not to flinch under her touch. For that she can’t blame him, he hardly knows her, certainly not the real her, but she can’t help herself. She has to feel him, she has to know that he’s real and here. That he survived.

 

Despite the lump in her throat, she beams at him.

 

“You found us.”

  
  
  



End file.
